


Stormy Nights

by dont_hate_me01



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 05:30:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7964383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dont_hate_me01/pseuds/dont_hate_me01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even when there is a storm in the air and no words are spoken between two brothers and lovers, a way will be found to sort things out.  (Sam's POV)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stormy Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Something I've written a few years back, but never posted here.

We’ve been having a bad week. I’ve been cranky forever and have yet to receive a _‘big brother look’_ from you.

A week ago, it was my fault that the salt and burn didn’t go as planned. I’ve been too preoccupied with my own thoughts to notice the ghost creeping up on you, tossing you like a rag doll across the tombstones. I can still hear the sound of your body as it made contact with the tree.

I yelled out your name but couldn’t get to you as I still had to take care of the damn spirit. You didn’t wake up when I hauled you to your baby. I placed you on the back seat, covering your face with kisses as I started to panic.

You would’ve seen the relief in my eyes as you woke up hours later, grouchy with pain and confused. I nursed you back to health, but that night things changed, I still don’t know why.

Now, if you caught me looking over in your direction, you would look away, not wanting to catch my eye. You no longer touched me in any way; you no longer whispered my name. At night we didn’t touch, waking up in the mornings – each on our own side of the bed.

We were in between hunts and were stuck in this crappy motel. You’ve cleaned all of the weapons five times, you washed the Impala – your only baby – three times and still you refuse to look at me. You were seated at the table, flicking your hunting knife with your hand paging through dad’s journal. I was seated on the bed searching for a possible hunt while my eyes traveled over your body.

It was over the ninety degrees outside. Both of us were shirtless and sweating. The AC had already given up two days ago. My eyes lingered over your chest, the sweat drops covering your skin in the same way your freckles did. Just looking at you made me hard out of want for only you, to be impaled by you, to hear you call out my name, to hear you call me _‘Sammy’_.

As the night grew late we went to bed in silence, still not touching, still alien to each other. I closed my eyes and tried to get some sleep, hoping that your closeness on the other side of the bed will lull me to sleep.

When the first thunder rolled in I was awake instantly. Looking over to your side, you were facing away from me. I could feel my heart start racing as it raced when you touched me, but this time it was out of fear. When the lightning flashed across the sky, I whimpered softly and bit down hard on my own hand not to wake you. Not to show you how pathetic I was.

The storm came nearer, becoming more intense as did my fear. Since I could remember, you were always there for me; tonight I was alone. I curled into the fetal position praying that this storm and angst will pass soon. My prayers were not answered, the storm become more violent – as if it were mocking my childish fears.

I knew I was shivering from head to toe, no longer caring if I shook the bed. When you placed your hand on my shoulder I wanted to shy away, but you held fast and pulled me into you. Still, we did not talk. As you pulled me closer, I was wondering if this was a dream, but when you soothed me as the thunder struck again I started gaining hope.

Tuning into you, I rested my head on your chest, wanting, needing to hear the steady beat of your heart. I must have whimpered again because you placed a comforting hand on my back, rubbing up and down, whispering nothings in my ear and it worked – my breathing evened out and I shivered less.

Knowing that this would not last for long and not wanting to feel the pain of separation, the pain of rejection from you, I pulled away first although the storm was yet to pass. I did not get far; you took hold of me and turned me to face you, lowered your face to mine and started placing sweet soft kisses on me.

Your hand became firmer on my back, stroking it up and down in sure movements. You cradled my neck, pressing me closer to you. The intensity of your kisses increased as if you had to convey some hidden message to me.

I wanted to hope again and returned your kisses eagerly. Pressing myself into you, trying to get you to turn so that I could straddle you, but I must have done something wrong because you stopped – pulled away.

I lowered my eyes; the rejection I feared was right in front of me. When you lifted my chin with your hand, I could not understand what you wanted from me. You cupped my face, used your thumbs to caress away the tears and traced my features with your fingers.

Once again, you pressed me against you – hard, before you slowly started to slip your hands beneath the waistband of my boxers, cupping me, pressing me against your groin. I could feel the want in you, once again the hope returned.

You turned us and I was now pinned to the bed. You looked at me, you looked through me. You placed kisses on my face, moving lower, taking my nipple in your mouth, suckling hard before moving on and dishing out the same pleasure pain to the twin bud.

I arched up against you and you placed restraining hands on my body. Grabbing and holding me tight, not releasing me from the bed. You scraped your nails over me, leaving red angry marks behind, lapping it with your tongue – changing the pain into pleasure.

This time I was whimpering again, not out of fear, but out of want. I wanted you to be in me, to take me, to punish me as you saw fit, to make sure that I would not be at fault again.

I was not even aware of the fact that you removed my boxers or your own. I felt our bodies moving together, flesh on flesh. I was unsure whom of us wanted, needed this more.

You gracefully moved lower over my body and I gasped as you took me into your mouth. You did not start at the tip as you always do. With one movement you took me down to the base – hard, before you so slowly released me, taking your time in reaching the tip again.

My pleasure, my pain, my want, my need, did not end there. Your teeth came into play, nipping me – not all too gently, your tongue tracing the prominent vein as you dipped again. If I had the breath in me, I would have begged for mercy, but I could only grab hold of the sheets, biting my lip and tasting blood as it dripped onto my tongue.

I would have screamed if I could as you gathered my pre cum and slicked up your fingers, pushing two into me from the outset. It burned; it was more than a week since I had you in me. I grunted and wanted to pull away, but you held me steady, you held me close and wormed your fingers into me.

The pain gave away to pleasure and once again I wished I was able to voice my desires. You fingered me, stretching me, but avoided the one place within me that would have made me go high without any drugs; without demon blood.

You pulled up from me, caressing my face as I moaned in the absence of your touch. Your green eyes bored into me, locking me away in your gaze until my eyes saw you slicking yourself up, using only your own pre cum, not bothering with any lube.

I knew it was going to burn, it was going to hurt, but I couldn’t give a damn. I needed this, I wanted this. You lowered yourself to me again, kissing me hard, no tenderness left. You pushed my legs up, placing them above your shoulders and lifted my hips from the bed. You used your hands and opened me up.

I tried to get my breathing in rhythm with your first thrust. As you plunged into me, I screamed out loud, not from the burn but from the fullness. I only then realized how much I missed this.

You became gentle, giving my body the time to adjust and even though still no words were spoken between us, you knew it was time to move when I tried to lift my hips even further off the bed. You placed your hands on my hips to keep me going out of control and you withdrew from me, leaving only your tip inside my tight muscle.

I wanted to complain about the loss, the emptiness that I felt, but you pushed forward filling me up again. You found your rhythm, our rhythm on your second thrust. Soon my head was rolling from side to side the pleasure increasing inside of me on each forward thrust.

When you lowered my one leg to your waist the angle of entry changed, sending me ever so close to the edge, as your cock brushed over my prostate sending waves of pleasure over me.

My hips raised from the bed, my breathing hitched, tears of sweet hell filled my eyes. As I arched into your body, you took my hardened cock in your hand picking up our rhythm. Not once did you falter, not once did you pause but brought us to sweet completion with thrust after thrust until I felt my balls contracting together, tightening around your shaft and spurting myself all over your hand and my body.

You did not stop, keeping me going until I felt your own release inside of me, warming me even more. As you fell forward, crushing me with your weight, my heart soared.

You breathed my name as if you were calling to me, showing me that everything is alright, showing me that the storm has passed. As you whispered _“Sammy,”_ I knew I was safe and no storm would ever change that.

**The End**


End file.
